


The Diary of a Land Agent

by mrsredboots



Category: Provincial Lady - E. M. Delafield
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 23:42:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16753717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsredboots/pseuds/mrsredboots
Summary: Robert, married to the Provincial Lady, decides to emulate her and keep a diary.





	The Diary of a Land Agent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brutti_ma_buoni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brutti_ma_buoni/gifts).



_8 November_

My wife has decided to keep a diary. I can’t help feeling that it is a waste of time, but, lacking proof of that, have decided to follow suit to verify my hypothesis.

So, today. Cook had been complaining about the range, but I didn’t find anything wrong with it. Fiddled about a bit and looked as though I was doing something, then lit it and left Cook to it. Went to the attic to retrieve suitcases, as we are going to Bournemouth for the weekend; unfortunately managed to break three of my wife’s bulb bowls. I could have sworn she’d told me she put them in the cellar. Don’t know why she grows them, anyway – they never come out as well as she hopes they will.

_11 November_

In Bournemouth for the weekend to see young Robin. Took him and a friend to Corfe Castle, which they enjoyed. Tipped them both 5s when I took them back to school after dinner. Fell asleep in the hotel lounge.

_14 November_

My wife’s old school friend has announced her intention of descending on us for a few days.  Why will these women do it? No idea what we will do with her. Prevented my wife from removing the rug from my dressing-room; I like that rug and stand on it while dressing. I fail to see why I should put myself out for her friends!

_17 November_

Go to the station to fetch the school friend, a Miss Crabbe, to find that she is not on the train. Return home, and am told she will not now be arriving until 7:00 pm. Not impressed. Spare bedroom fire inclined to smoke, so open the window, which should settle it.  Return to station and find Miss Crabbe, who strikes me as extremely dull woman. My wife anxious to know what I think of her, but tactfully say it is too early to comment. 

_19 November_

Will this wretched woman never go? She is on a special diet and eats no meat or dairy. So ridiculous!

_22 November_

She’s gone! Delight tempered by the reception of an invitation to dine with Lord and Lady Boxe, my employers. My wife fluttering about which dress to wear, and complaining that if Lady Boxe introduces us as Our Agent and Our Agent’s Wife, she will walk out. Frankly, I doubt it. And anyway, that is what we are.

_25 November_

The dinner party. Have to rebuke my wife for slathering quantities of red lipstick on herself, which she seems to think improves her appearance, but I find makes her look cheap. Nothing of note at the party – guests dull, food insipid. Played billiards after dinner – I did rather well.

_26 November_

Fear we are no longer young enough for late nights. I may be an old fogey – I probably am – but I do find it rather more restful to spend the evening reading  _The Times_ rather than having to make polite conversation with complete strangers.

_9 December_

My wife’s friend Rose is staying with us for a couple of days, having been living in America for awhile. My wife insisted on going to meet her ship at Plymouth, which I considered rather a waste of time and money, but she insisted. Rose very charming, but appears to think our house rather cold. Everybody knows that American houses are always stuffy and over-heated, and so I tell her. My wife points out that as I have never been to America, I cannot verify the truth or otherwise of this observation. Arguably not.

_11 December_

Breakfast, for the past couple of days, seems to have been inexplicably small. I have been left feeling rather hungry, especially as yesterday’s porridge had rather obviously caught. I wondered why we couldn’t have a ham, only to be told that one was ordered but would not appear until my brother and his wife arrived. They are apparently coming for Christmas, and my wife insists that it was my idea to invite them. Nonsense, I’d never have done such a thing!

_12 December_

Young Vicky and her nursery-governess appear to have acquired a kitten. I am not fond of cats, and feel the kitchen cat is really enough. However, Vicky at her most persuasive is difficult to resist, so I weakly said the kitten could stay if it was female (which it apparently is) and kept to the nursery quarters.

Much relieved to go out and deal with the ram, which had stopped.

_17 December_

My wife has gone to London for a few days’ Christmas shopping. Can’t think why she can’t do it all by post, as I do. Still, if it gives her pleasure.

_21 December_

My wife return ed . Tomorrow, the hordes, in the persons of Robin and my brother and sister-in-law descend, and the annual horror that is Christmas will begin.

_1 January_

We survived Christmas with no serious mishaps. Today, however, we hosted a children’s party, and have had to spend the entire evening clearing up. Exhausting. Good conversation with one of the other fathers about big-game hunting, though.

_2 January_

A delightful morning following the hunt. Young Vicky was on her pony, and I was on foot. Vicky can be very charming when she is on her best behaviour, as she was this morning, and I enjoyed her company. She  had a nasty fall into a very muddy puddle, but was very brave and we were late to lunch.

_5 January_

Rather disconcerted to find myself feeling jealous of my wife, who has received an invitation to a literary dinner in London and to stay with her friend Rose. She seemed to think she needed my permission to go – why, when she will do exactly as she likes anyway, she always does, I have no idea. I’m sure she’ll enjoy meeting her Bohemian friends again.

_22 January_

End of the holidays rather marred by all of us coming down with colds. Young Robin went back to school still sniffing, and I was afraid that my wife was still feeling unwell, since she was looking very unattractive at breakfast. Was unwise enough to comment on this, with the result that she went to the hairdresser and had her hair dyed a bright mahogany, making her look even worse! Why women feel the need to tamper with their appearance, I shall never understand.

_23 January_

My wife produces, for once, a really attractive friend who came to lunch. Why can’t more of her friends be like that?

_22 February_

Wretched cat has had kittens! I do not like cats, and will not tolerate 9 of them about the house. Drowned all but one of them, but the nursery-governess, who is French and occasionally very sensible, said she would explain it to young Vicky. Good, because I hate upsetting the child, but nine cats is definitely at least 7 too many.

_1 March_

Social whirl lately, with a dinner at our Member’s house, very dull, and a rather enjoyable wedding. That attractive friend of my wife’s came to stay with her husband and child; child stayed with young Vicky and the nursery-governess while the adults went to the wedding. As enjoyable as these occasions usually are, and more enjoyable than many. A pity, though, that our lunch was spoilt by overdone chicken, underdone potatoes, and Vicky behaving badly over the question of a second helping of pudding.

_3 March_

Our Vicar’s wife can be a total menace. She gave my wife a lift home after the Women’s Institute meeting, and simply did not know when to go. And then when we finally got her into her car, it wouldn’t start, so I had to push it down the drive. After which I suggested turning off the lights and going to bed at once, in case she came back.

_17 March_

Very annoyed to discover my wife has sold my favourite mackintosh. Yes, it was elderly, but it was very comfortable and still waterproof. I hope she hasn’t sold anything else. Struggled a bit with  _The Times_ crossword, for once. My wife made fatuous suggestion of “Atlas” for a famous mountain in Greece, which of course turned out to be Olympus; not at all sure what her train of thought was. She did, unfortunately, attempt to explain it to me, but I got bored and switched off.

_21 March_

Unexpected telephone call from the registry office in Plymouth to say that they can supply us with a house-parlourman, and would we care to engage him? My wife ha s had no success in finding anybody locally, and is in London for a few days to interview registry offices there. Decide house-parlourman would certainly be better than nobody, if he knows his business, and send postcard to my wife asking whether she thinks we should employ him.

_22 March_

Telegram from London expressing enthusiasm at the thought of house-parlourman so telephone registry office to confirm his engagement, subject to satisfactory references.

_25 March_

My wife returns from London and is immediately embroiled in a village drama concerning young Barbara Blenkinsop, who has, apparently, developed a suitor but her mother can’t be left. The girl carries herself well, but has poor ankles.

_2 April_

Rather concerned that there may be a case of swine fever in the herd. Vet sent for.

_4 April_

Thankfully, not swine fever. My wife has been preoccupied these past couple of days by the Blenkinsop affair – young Barbara Blenkinsop wants to get married, apparently, but her mother, who does not enjoy good health, threatens to have the vapours whenever her daughter proposes leaving her. Can’t be doing with that sort of selfishness – the older generation ought to be shot when they get in the way of the younger ones. Hope young Robin or Vicky will shoot me if I get in their way when they grow up.

_12 April_

Young Robin returns from school for the Easter holidays. He seems to spend more time at home than he does at school! I’m sure our holidays were never so long.

_15 April_

Blenkinsop affair apparently resolved to everybody’s satisfaction – an elderly cousin will come as companion to the mother so the daughter can get married and go to India with her beloved. Just as well – it was becoming the only topic of conversation in the village, and remarkably tedious.

_17 April_

Both children have colds, and neither seems to know the use of a pocket-handkerchief, but persist in sniffing and making revolting noises.

_19 April_

Now both children have gone down with pink eye; not a genteel complaint. My wife rather upset that Lady Boxe thinks it might be measles. Young Vicky apparently feverish and has been put to bed, but sufficiently well to smile at me when I went in to make kind enquiries.

_20 April_

Young Vicky does have measles, and Robin will probably develop them. My wife is making an incredible fuss,  racing about making lemonade, rushing upstairs to read to Vicky, coming down again to play with Robin, and generally upsetting the even tenor of the house. Thank goodness I have work to do and can stay out most of the day. 

_25 April_

House-parlourman gives notice, which in many ways is a relief. He didn’t really ever quite “do”. Young Vicky is getting better slowly.

_27 April_

My wife retires to bed feeling unwell. I said I hoped she wasn’t getting measles. However, she gets up after lunch, and says she is feeling much better, and plays cricket with young Robin on the lawn.

_28 April_

My wife is definitely getting measles, as is young Robin. Organise hospital nurse to help, as the nursery-governess can’t do everything and young Vicky is in a rather fragile state of convalescence.

_29 April_

My wife is really seriously ill. Doctor shakes his head, and says her age is against her. Very worrying. Young Robin also poorly today, but nobody is worried about him.

_30 April_

No improvement. Doctor very concerned. As am I.

_1 May_

Still no improvement. Am very worried.

_2 May_

Tiny signs of improvement. She knew who I was today, and was able to have a few sips of champagne.

_3 May_

She is definitely going to get better! It will be a long haul, the doctor says, but she is out of danger, and will recover. The children are up and about again, but still rather piano.

_7 May_

My wife, the nurse, and I decide that the latter should take both children to Bude for a fortnight to recuperate, and she will join them as soon as the doctors say she may. I am deputed to go and tell Mademoiselle, the nursery governess, that she is to have a fortnight’s holiday while the children are away, but she decides this has hurt her feelings and she is  _blessée_ , but refused to explain further. Well, I can’t pander to her  feelings; she is to have a fortnight’s holiday while the children are in Bude, and that’s an end to it.

_9 May_

The children have left for Bude, and the nursery governess on her enforced holiday. My wife’s eyes have gone back on her – apparently a not unusual complication of measles – and she is forced to spend her time lying down in a darkened room, which does not please her. Or me, either.

_13 May_

Very amused to discover that Old Mrs Blenkinsop’s companion, an equally elderly cousin, has an Austin 7 and drives all over the place with Mrs Blenkinsop, swathed in shawls, beside her. She is not exactly what I call a good driver, and Mrs Blenkinsop, who does not enjoy good health, has long given us all to understand that she will expire if exposed to the slightest draught. Retail this to my wife, who is also very amused. I’m glad she is well enough to be amused – Barbara Blenkinsop gave her a copy of Loopy Limericks, which I’m sure she’ll enjoy when she’s able to read again, but she didn’t seem very sanguine when I said this to her.

_15 May_

Coming in from work I meet the Vicar’s wife on the doorstep – at half-past six, no less. My wife appears to have been trying to get rid of her for some time. She – the Vicar’s wife, not mine – chatters on at me about something or other, but I make no reply and she eventually departs.

_16 May_

My wife suddenly developing second thoughts about Bude. She is still not feeling very well, I gather, and the nursery governess, who was to have gone with her, has developed a bad throat and will be staying on in Clacton until everybody returns. I think she’d better go, and suggests she asks the Vicar’s wife to go with her. She gives me a Look and I don’t pursue the suggestion! It was not meant seriously, anyway.

_17 May_

Weather bitterly cold. Drive my wife to the station. She is still very unwell, and worrying whether she should go or not, and eventually I realise she’s wondering whether she is being sent away to die. Suggest this, and get in return a fake smile and a comment about some Bishop or other going somewhere to lay his bones, but as she can remember neither the name of the Bishop, nor his See, nor where he wished to lay his bones, this gets us no further, and the train comes in.

_24 May_

Family returned home today. Picked them up at the station, all looking much better. Pay off hospital nurse, although no sign yet of the nursery governess’ returning. I’ve enjoyed a peaceful few days on my own, but really, am glad they are home again.

_28 May_

Nursery governess returns. After lunch, I take young Robin back to school. He grows increasingly silent on the journey, and I do rather sympathise – no matter how much one enjoys school, and I know he does, the moment of actually leaving home and going back was always terrible. Tip him an extra 10/- pocket money, which cheers him up. I don’t think I’ll tell my wife that,  though. 

_1 June_

Sunday Lunch with the Frobishers. Sat next to Lady F’s sister, Violet, who was very intelligent about pigs. Later, we are shown round the garden, and thence to the stables. I know my poor wife is, inexplicably, terrified of horses, with the possible exception of Vicky’s pony, so make sure she is behind me during the visit. Later, go to Evening Service while my wife stays at home with Vicky.

_3 June_

Letter by second post telling me my godfather has died. He was 97, so had a good run. I think I’ll go to the funeral. Looked out my morning coat and top hat, which smell of mothballs.

_6 June_

After the funeral, which went off very well, I was bidden to the reading of the Will, and most gratified to discover that I have been left £500. As our family finances are, to say the least of it, somewhat parlous, this is no less than a Godsend. Write to my wife to tell her the good news.

_9 June_

Return home to find my wife has been enjoying planning how to spend this windfall. Agree to her redeeming her great-aunt’s diamond ring, which she was obliged to pawn some months ago, but gently point out that the hot lobster and fresh fruit salad which she ordered for dinner are actually more to her taste than mine. We spend a pleasurable evening discussing how to spend the money. She suggests we combine giving a party with the church f ê te, which we are due to host in a couple of weeks, but realises that this would actually be rather impractical. I do wish we didn’t always have to host the church f ê te, but really, we are the only possible place in the village for it to be held.  And it does mean we make a real effort with the garden for a few weeks each year.

_12 June_

We may not be having a party on the same day as the Church  f ê te,  but we do appear to be having a house-party. It coincides with young Robin’s half-term, so he will come home for the weekend, and then my wife’s friend Rose, who I don’t mind, and that dreadful Miss Crabbe, who I do. Especially as she will have to sleep in my dressing-room, which means I shall be obliged to dress in the bedroom while she is here. Plus she is on that stupid diet and won’t eat what the rest of us do. 

_17 June_

The  f ê te  seems to have passed off very well, and we cleared three figures. Young Robin managed to win The Goat in the raffle; it is a ghastly brute and has been all over the village, most unpopular. Oh well, it can see the end of its days at the Home Farm, if it wants. Lady Frobisher opened the  f ê te,  which has caused a slight coolness between my wife and Lady Boxe, who expects to be asked to do these things. Really, Lady Boxe should have been asked, but she was away at the right moment.

_23 June_

We went to a tennis party some miles away. I played well, but tennis is not, alas, my wife’s game. She suggested on the way home that she stop playing altogether, but I point out that I don’t know what she could do instead.

_3 July_

My wife in one of her states due to having received an invitation to join her friend Rose in the South of France for a fortnight. I don’t really see why she shouldn’t go, if she wishes, but she starts fussing about whether to go or not, so I retire behind the paper until she has made up her mind.

_6 July_

The South of France trip is definitely on, I gather. I suggest the weather may not be as good as she expects, and that she should take woollen underthings. This is meant to be a joke, but she doesn’t see it as funny.

_15 July_

Many last-minute panics and instructions about what books to take (why bother? There are bound to be plenty there left by previous visitors.), when to give Cook and the house-parlourmaid their wages, and so on.

_17 July_

Take my wife to the station for the early train. She is, as usual, fussing and wondering whether she should go or not. So silly, I don’t even bother replying. The weather is very windy – I hope the sea won’t be too rough, as she is not a good traveller, even when it is calm.

_20 July_

Weather lovely. I hope my wife is having a good time in the South of France.

_30 July_

The traveller returns, and of course we did nothing but squabble the entire evening, which rather spoilt it. I don’t even know what we were bickering about, but I’ve noticed this often happens after a prolonged absence.

_3 August_

Young Robin home from school for the summer holidays. He has decided he wishes to stay up for dinner. I do not agree, but am eventually persuaded that he may join us for soup, and then again for dessert.  Vicky offended, but as she is manifestly too young at six, neither my wife nor I have any hesitation in quashing any pretensions in that direction. 

My wife complains about the weather, and I suppose it is unpleasant compared to the South of France, but if she were to take more exercise, she wouldn’t feel the cold so much.

_7 August_

Annual Flower Show. Young Vicky, apparently, behaved badly in the swing-boats and made herself sick. I remember doing the same at her age, but would not admit that to her! End up looking at horses with the Vicar and a neighbouring squire, most enjoyable. No maids this evening, but we still managed a decent meal.

_8 August_

A most appalling woman called on us this afternoon; a Miss Pankerton. I gather she is newly arrived in the village, and I hope she does not stay. She sat on the arm of the sofa, which anybody with half a brain knows is bad for it, and then proceeded to spout utter rubbish. I stayed quiet as much as I could, but occasionally felt obliged to contradict her. I do hope we don’t have to see too much of her.

_9 August_

Friend of young Robin’s comes to stay for a week. My wife suggests that one day next week I drive them all to the seaside for the day. Not a great idea, but I reluctantly consent, assuming it doesn’t rain.

_13 August_

Oh dear. My wife has invited the wretched Pankerton woman to join us on our picnic at the sea, together with her three nephews. None of us, including her, can understand why she did so. I do hope it rains.

_15 August_

Not a good day. Night disturbed by the boys, who had been sleeping in the summer-house, coming in in the middle of the night and waking the household in the process. Then we decided the weather was just good enough to go on the picnic, but once we had set off, it began to rain, and didn’t stop until we came home again. The children bathed, and everyone ate a great deal of lunch, but it was not a good day. The Pankerton woman produced an even more frightful friend, who appears to have no rhyme nor reason for his existence.

_16 August_

My wife tells me the Pankerton’s friend is a writer. Wish he would go and do it elsewhere. And why is the coffee bitter? And young Robin puts the lid on it by announcing that the wretched cat is to have kittens again. Regrettably say something that I’d prefer Robin not to have heard.

_25 August_

If young Robin did hear my unfortunate ejaculation of a few days ago, he has had the tact to keep it to himself. He, and his friend who has been staying with us for a few days, have now gone; Robin to stay with another friend, and there is, I gather, to be yet a third friend before the end of the holidays!

Meanwhile, my wife expects me to be both surprised and delighted that Barbara Blenkinsop-as-was is expecting a baby – surely this is normal once a young woman has been married for some time?

_1 September_

My wife would like me to drop everything and rush to the station to pick up some bulbs which she has unwisely ordered. I think they will do very well until tomorrow, when I’m going to the station anyway to pick up young Robin and his friend.

_2 September_

Forgot the wretched bulbs! Am in disgrace! However, enquiry reveals they don’t need to be planted up for a few weeks yet, so will tie a knot in my handkerchief to remind me to pick them up when I take the child back to the station in a few days.

_11 September_

What a delightful child young Micky Thompson was! The children have thoroughly enjoyed having him to stay, and life appears to have been an unbroken succession of trips to the seaside, picnics, and so on. I wish the boys were old enough to be taken out pigeon-shooting, but maybe 9 years old is a little young. Once they are at public school, perhaps.

I did remember the bulbs!

_24 September_

Had to take young Robin back to school, something I always hate, as it reminds me of my own schooldays and how awful going back always was,  especially in September . He was very  subdued all the way there, but fortunately perked up when he saw his friends, and ran in quite happily. Tipped him an extra 10/- on top of his normal pocket money. I hope I didn’t show that I minded saying goodbye!

_1 October_

My wife is rather excited about an invitation to speak at various Women’s Institutes around the county. Well, if that’s what gives her pleasure….

_5 October_

She is back, and has promptly gone down with what sounds like a very nasty cold. I have always said these Institutes are full of germs. I hope she doesn’t feel the need to pass it on to me, young Vicky, Mademoiselle or the servants!

_17 October_

We are summonsed to the Boxes for their dinner-dance on the 23 rd . My wife very reluctant to go, but as they have asked me to be on duty, there is question of refusing. The whole event is keeping me extremely busy – there is to be dancing for the young folk, and some guests will be asked to wear fancy dress (thank goodness we won’t, and I can just wear my normal white tie). To the point where I can’t really see much point in continuing this journal – it really is rather a waste of time!


End file.
